


Lucky Starr and the Ambassadors of Eris

by Roadstergal



Category: Lucky Starr - Isaac Asimov
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Gen, Human Biology, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Science, Sexual Tension, Space Flight, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 03:46:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2607287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadstergal/pseuds/Roadstergal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mysterious ship has been discovered entering our solar system.  Lucky doesn't know that Bigman keeps a ring in his boot.  Will Conway survive the stress of it all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [melannen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melannen/gifts).



_**Seventeen years ago** _

  
   
"I'm on financial aid, as well."

"Oh." John fastened the strap securely around the sturdy stalks of iron-rich Mars fodder and passed the bale to the girl - Kathleen, if he remembered correctly from roll call in class the week before. "I though that... I mean... out here..."

Kathleen shrugged at John and smiled as she took the bale, shoving it neatly into the back of the sand truck as she started a new row. "You thought that girls only worked in the kitchens?"

"Pretty much."

"Yeah, they told me I had to start there.  We had a long discussion about how I am majoring in seeding and husbandry, not cooking."

"Discussion?" John passed her another securely wrapped bale.

"Yes, a bit of a loud one. Some things might have been thrown.  But it was convincing, in the end."

John had to laugh, then. "I'm sorry I missed it."

"Yes, I've heard you don't shrink from a row yourself..."

"I don't have much room to shrink," John noted, ruefully.  It was not a subject he usually addressed, or had any tolerance for addressing. But she was smaller than he was, after all - despite the ease with which she pulled the bales of Mars-grain up and into the bed of the sand truck, her large forearms bulging.

"Neither one of us. Do you think we have room for one more?"

"Two more," John said, with confidence.  "One like this..." He tossed a bale up to her, pointing at a gap, "On its side more... yes, there, and the last one..."

"Here!" she said, with glee, grabbing the last one and wedging it into the tight space with a few labored breaths.  "A good nights' work."

John picked at the fingers of his gloves, looking at her.  He didn't normally... but she was a bit different, too, wasn't she? Tiny and short-haired and almost manly in appearance, with her big shoulders and small breasts. The contrast to the rare, willowy girls he had met so far at school was striking. "Would you like... do you want..."

She cocked her head to the side like a curious dog. "What?"

"Dinner? Maybe? I mean, we go to the same mess, so it's not really..."

"Oh, yes, sure." She spoke as hastily and awkwardly as he. "I mean, we're working together, and have at least one class, we should be... friendly..."

"Study together, compare notes..."

"Yes! Just like that." She hopped down to his level. To just slightly below his level. "I never got your name..."

"John. John Jones.  You're... Kathleen?"

"Yes, good!  Leena for short.  I mean..." She flushed slightly.

"No, it's fine, really." John could feel his jaw setting. Like people didn't usually relish saying _for short_ and  _You'll be here shortly?_ and  _to make a long story..._ around him.  "It's fine. Let's eat."


	2. Chapter 2

**_Present day_ **

 

"Gus! We came as soon as we could." David took Dr Henree in a tight, brief embrace. The man stepped back to give a more businesslike handshake to Bigman, who had followed in David's wake like a very small and very determined Rottweiler.

"Sirians, you said." Bigman's face curled into a scowl. "Those cobbers..."

David put a placating hand on his friend's shoulder. He knew well that the small man had plenty of reason to be upset. They had tried to kill Bigman, after all - and wouldn't have thought more of it than putting down an inconvenient animal.  Regrettable, but necessary, and not like killing a _human_ , in their minds.  "Let's hear the man out, Bigman."

"Come in. Have a drink." Henree waved them into his sparsely furnished apartment, its cleanliness reminiscent of a regular housekeeper and inconsistently present resident, closing and locking the door securely.  He poured all three of them generous measures of Venusian spicewater into heavy glass tumblers, settling Lucky and Bigman into comfortable memory chairs.  "You'll need it."

"What's the scoop?" Bigman tossed back half of his drink in one gulp. Basic laws of biology be damned, he was unwilling to drink in a way that suggested that a measure of alcohol had a more potent effect on him than on a bigger body.

Henree played with his own glass, looking at the reflections in the green liquid. "We intercepted a ship just past Eris.  It was running silently.  No weapons, engines shut down, coasting on an existing trajectory."

"A spy," Bigman said, shortly.  "I bet he..."

"We took the sole occupant into custody," Henree moved on, relentlessly.  "She claims asylum."

"Asylum." David tasted the word.  "From the Sirians?"

"Yes," Henree nodded.

"It's a trick," Bigman said, stubbornly.  "You can't trust them."

"We don't intend to do so," Henree assured him.  "This is why I have called you two here.  We need you there to verify her story.  This is critical, David! The possibility of having another defector could help shift the balance of power in our favor. But we must know for certain."

David nodded, slowly.  "We will depart as soon as the ship is ready."

"Good man, Lucky.  And one more thing.  She was the _sole occupant_."

The implication hit David like a slap in the face.  "They have single-operator Jump ships."

"It seems the most reasonable possibility.  We have them in development, but only prototypes, for now.  So yes - we are very interested in this defector indeed."

David nodded, his brown eyes hard and determined.  "We won't fail you, Uncle Gus.  I promise."

 

* * *

 

 

The turn-around of their ship at the massive San Francisco space docks was as rapid as the Council of Science could enable, and they were on their way towards the outer reaches of the Solar System within two days.

It would have been a long and dull journey, David reflected, without the presence of his best friend.  It was strange to consider that, not ten years ago, Bigman had been a confrontational stranger in a Martian job office. Now, he could not imagine life without the man.

The little man in question turned away from the controls to frown at Lucky as the man entered the control room after a 'morning' shower.  "Eris.  I heard about it in school, once - it's just like Pluto, yeah?"

David sat half-on the control panel, carefully avoiding any of the buttons and switches.  "In a manner of speaking.  Do you know what trans-Neptunian objects are?"

"I _did_ go to school, you know!  They're anything that orbits past Neptune."

"At a greater average distance," Lucky clarified.  "Pluto does come inside of the orbit of Neptune at times.  I know you know that - you plotted our course to Pluto during that incident with Professor Mirmax!"

"Yes, but I hadn't really thought about it.  Does that mean Pluto isn't the most distant planet, then?"  Bigman asked, his brow furrowed.

"Pluto isn't technically a planet.  Astronomers were forced to re-define the concept of a planet in the Mid-Atomic age, and Pluto simply did not make the cut.  The larger asteroids are bigger!  In deference to the history of Pluto, they created a new category.  Plutoids are trans-Neptunian dwarf planets, and Eris is the largest of them."

"It's bigger than Pluto?  Why didn't they find it first, then?"

"It has a highly eccentric orbit.  It takes over five hundred standard Earth years to make an orbit!  At its aphelion, it's almost 100 AUs distant from the Sun, and severely tilted with respect to the orbits of the rest of the planets."

"But it's close right now?" Bigman gestured at the viewscreen, at their current route.

"Yes, it's just past perihelion.  Enjoy it..." David stared at the screen, as if the dot that represented cold, dark Eris would pop out of the sea of dots, "...it will be gone for a long time, when it leaves."

"So the Sirian knows our Solar System very well," Bigman said, thoughtfully.

"Yes - it is an odd choice," David agreed.

"I don't trust the Sirians, Lucky," Bigman said, frowning.  "I don't trust that she's a defector.  They're all in lock-step.  You can't take your eyes off of them."

"What about Yonge?  You two get on, don't you?"

"Yeah, but he's different.  He doesn't like everything all the same, like the rest of them."  Bigman and Yonge got along to an almost scandalous degree, David considered, given that Yonge was bred to be the sworn enemy of Earth, and that Bigman represented everything Yonge had been raised to despise.  It was, David supposed, a testament to the commonality of humanity.

"Well, perhaps she is a Yonge, herself.  We must leave our minds open to all possibilities."  David rubbed Bigman's hair affectionately.  "What about the possibility of dinner?  I would like to leave my mind open to that!"

With such conversations, on science and the joy of understanding the universe, reminiscing about old adventures and mutual friends, and mutual joking, the time passed pleasantly enough.  And at night, David found himself taking advantage of his friend's presence more than he usually did.  It was, at its heart, just one of those realities of life, something that did not bother David excessively.  Men had certain needs, after all, and in places where women were scarce - farms, schools, outer space - well, men made do with each other, and there was a certain hierarchy to it.  Such things were not spoken of - and Bigman had been quite disappointed to learn of that, as it was at odds with his effusive nature, that wished to continually be affectionate and close to David, even when engaged in such delicate matters.  But it was simply reality, and Bigman realized it quickly enough. And it _was_ pleasing, how tight and warm Bigman was, how quietly and willingly he soothed David's needs perfectly.  He was, in every way, the best of friends.


	3. Chapter 3

It was ridiculous, how predictable it all was.  How John found himself pulling out his best boots, the ones with the bright lime stripes shaking through a deep blue field, and polishing them to a blinding shine every week before Xenobiology 305, hoping they would catch her eye as he walked into the lecture hall.  How he would linger after to chat with her, learning about her family back on Earth, cooing over pictures of her Earth-bound dogs on her mini communicator, then getting coffee after work (and getting lost in her hazel eyes when she went on about how strange Martian 'creamer' tasted).  And she, most oddly of all, seemed genuinely interested in John.  About how his parents had passed, how he ended up in college on a scholarship, his dreams for the future, talking late into the night.

"I want to travel," he told her, quietly, the first night they slept together, lying tangled and sticky in a small dormitory cot.  "I want to go to other planets."

"I don't," she said.  "I knew I wanted to go to Mars, and that was my one big trip.  I'm here, I'm happy. I want to stay."

John shifted almost uncomfortably.  This felt a bit like an argument, and although he normally relished those - not with a girl who he rather liked who was naked next to him.  "I want to see the stars," he muttered.

"You can see them outside at night," she noted. "And you can feel low gravity whenever you exit the domes.  Isn't that enough?"

"Not really. I mean, I don't know, but it sure seems awfully cool up there."

"Freezing." She laughed in a way that suggested the subject was done for now, and touched him in a rather private area.  "You know, I always thought it was just a joke, what people said about little guys having big..."

"Stop it!" His laugh was embarrassed, and he squirmed away slightly.

"John. That's a boring name; it doesn't really fit you. I'm going to call you  _Bigman_."

"Don't you dare."

"I absolutely will. And nobody will know why..."

A great deal more giggling commenced, on both sides.


	4. Chapter 4

The base on Eris was small, a hunk of plastic and metal attached to the side of Eris like a tumor. It was so small that it did not even have a proper space-dock.  Bigman handled the landing, settling the _Shooting Starr_ on the dimly-lit pad with such gentle touches on the controls that David barely felt it settle to the ground.

They donned their space-suits and exited the ship, one tall and one small figure bouncing expertly in the low gravity up to the airlock of the small base.  An RFID card triggered the heavy outside door to roll aside, allowing David and Bigman in. They waited, Bigman tapping his gloved hands against his hips impatiently, as the door closed and the lock filled with air.  They removed their suits when the red pressure warning stopped flashing and changed to green, hanging them neatly in the marked Guest lockers.  Two more doors awaited them, tight revolving doors made of clear plastic that let only one person though at a time ("Well, _you_ could bring a friend," David noted to Bigman), the first keyed to their fingerprints, the second to their retinal scans.  Beyond the second door, a tall, muscular, blonde figure waited for them in the unadorned grey corridor.

"Wess!" David said with surprise, jumping forward and hugging his friend tightly.

"Great Space," Bigman grumbled, "what is _he_ doing here?"

"Keeping a very small chair warm for you," Councilman Ben Wessilewsky replied, winking.  "I was in the Asteroids when I got the news, so I headed out here immediately to take over.  Henree said you two would be here soon after me.  Come on, I'll take you in to meet our defector.  She's said all of three words since she got here.  All she does is eat, I swear.  Like a goat!"

"A what?" Bigman asked, trotting in their wake.

Wess ignored Bigman's question.  "Is it a good idea to bring the little man in to see her?  Those boots would make _me_ want to escape to Sirius..."

"Funny man," Bigman growled, rubbing his chartreuse-and-vermillion patterned boots.  "Why don't you say that to my face?"

"Because it hurts to bend down that far."  Wess put up his hand as they entered a dark room, clearly the back side of a one-way mirror.  A woman sat in the main room on the other side, a perfect Sirian - tall, broad-shouldered, buxom, high-cheekboned, perfect olive skin topped by a soft wave of dark hair, cascading to her shoulders. She sat on the hard plastic chair as if it were a throne, her hands resting gently on the table before her.

"She does that, a lot," Wess noted.  "Just sits there.  For hours on end.  Try to talk to her, and she asks for you for food."  The plain table in front of her did indeed hold the remains of a good-sized meal - the bones of a small bird, bits of gristle still hanging to them; the remains of reconstituted freeze-dried peas and smears of gravy. "Easy enough - Agrav makes space transport of good foodstuffs cheap, now, and I had brought some with me.  It seems to make her sick, but she asks for it anyway. Maybe Sirian food is terrible."

"It's not," Bigman admitted, reluctantly.  "They can't do much else right, but the food is really good."  
  
"I want to talk to her," David said, firmly.


	5. Chapter 5

It was a very odd conceit that hit John (or _Bigman_ , as he was increasingly being known, and had even come to think of himself as, even though most who used the name thought it was just entertainingly ironic).  He didn't want to be tied down - he wanted to see the stars, to travel the solar system or even beyond, to feel the differing gravities of all of the worlds.  But his first year as a farm-boy had been spectacularly successful. Everyone - well, everyone who mattered - said he had a solid career ahead of him on the farms.  And he was... well, he was in love, wasn't he.  He wasn't quite sure how he knew, but he just _did_.  And yes, he was willing to give up a certain subset of his dreams for Leena. She was right - the stars were bright and cold against the jet-black sky when they donned their nosepieces and snuck out into the desert at night, laughing as they bounced and flipped and played in the low gravity.  He would be happy, spending his life with her.  It would be a good life.  
  
He had watched all the Tri-D reality shows.  He knew how this all went, what the script was.  He had been working overtime for almost half a Martian year, saving his money for a nice ring (he had already picked it up - practical tungsten carbide polished to a high sheen, inset with a tiny, rare local ruby), take her out to Valles Marineris (he had already booked the hostel and synchronized their vacations), and then, ask the question.  _The_ question.  
  
It was a good plan, if he did say so himself.


	6. Chapter 6

"My name is David Starr."

The Sirian woman looked at him steadily, her dark eyes starting at the top of him, then moving down the length of his lean, muscular body, then back, before returning to his steely, brown-eyed gaze.  "Lucky Starr.  You look only slightly as Sten Devoure described."

Bigman was, David reflected, likely saying some pithy comments about the man in question on the other side of the one-way mirror.  "You are a friend of Sten Devoure?"

"I am his consort," she replied, simply.

David raised his eyebrows.  "Are you, now.  How interesting."

"You don't believe me."

"Sten might not be the most organized Sirian I have met, but he still does not seem the sort of absentminded fellow who would leave his consort lying around a small Terran base at the outer reaches of our solar system."

The woman did not smile, did not change her expression at all.  "He - and those who work for him - are under the impression that I am visiting Beta Eridani Four on a sampling expedition."

"So you are a scientist."

"Of course I am.  All of the elite on Sirius are scientists by training.  I am a microbiologist."  She shrugged delicately. "I wanted to see for myself - and that is not acceptable, by the standards of my culture."

"See what for yourself?"

Finally, her expression changed - a faint smile tugged at the edges of her mouth.  "Earth."

David walked closer.  "You're very far from Earth, still."

She nodded.  "Yes.  How would you react - how would your compatriots react - to a Sirian ship approaching Earth?  Even coming past the orbit of Jupiter - you would consider it an act of aggression.  I would be attacked.  But out here - this is a small world, a neglected one.  You keep this single base here to mine its tholins, and otherwise, you ignore it.  But I knew that if I landed here, the Council of Science would suddenly be quite interested indeed, and send out a representative.  Possibly even you."

"You are correct.  And here I am."

The woman leaned forward slightly.  "I want to see Earth."  
  


* * *

 

  
  
"That's impossible."  Wess frowned as he and David walked down the corridor, devouring its modest length with their strides, Bigman hurrying in their wake.  "You know it.  We could not guarantee her safety - a Sirian, on Earth?  There isn't enough protection on the planet.  The PPE has some devoted representatives."  The People for Pure Earth didn't even like humans born on other planets in the Solar System, and one had attempted in just the past month (thankfully, a failed attempt) to kill the Martian representative with a suicide bomb.

"I know." David shook his head.

"You're worried about _her_?" Bigman asked, his voice incredulous.  "Lucky, can't you see?  She's trying to get to Earth, to meet with the head of the Council - she's going to kill Conway!  I bet she has a bomb smuggled in her body..."

"We've given her full X-ray and body density scans," Wess noted.  "It's standard to have it built in to the airlocks at Council bases.  We're not all excessively trusting Martians!"

"Well," Bigman grunted, a bit deflated.  "Still. I think it's a bad idea.  But maybe she'll get sick - that would serve her right," Bigman huffed, trying not to sound as winded as he was to stay close to the other two.  "Yongue had the worst colds and flus, his first year on Earth.  He said they have no viruses on Sirius!  Can you imagine?  She'd be laid flat the first time someone sneezed..."

David came to a halt so quickly that Bigman ran into the back of him.  "No viruses.  You're sure he said that?"  David spun and grabbed Bigman's shoulders, looking at him intently.

"Well, yeah."  Bigman looked at David, his eyes a bit wide and startled.  "He said they had no viruses, and very limited bacterial culture.  Just what they needed for cheese and growing beans, and the bare minimum for... I can't remember the word he used.  The eating ones."

"Symbiotic gut bacteria," David said, thoughtfully.

"Yes!  That!" Bigman poked at David with recognition.

"And she's a microbiologist."  David released Bigman, thoughtfully.  "Interesting."


	7. Chapter 7

"It's beautiful," Leena sighed, leaning into Bigman's embrace, watching the Earth slowly settle towards the edge of the ruddy canyon before them.  They had found an unused bench away from the gaping tourists from Earth and asteroid miners on leave, and had a bit of peace and quiet to themselves.

"Not as beautiful as you," Bigman noted.  "Even with the nosepiece on."

She laughed, squeezing his side briefly.  "You're too sweet."

It was the right moment. Wasn't it the right moment?  Close enough?  Surely it was close enough?  Bigman reached into his right boot, the safe, secure pocket where the little box resided.  "Do you - that is..." He thrust it at her a little awkwardly, flicking the catch that opened the box.  The ring's little inset ruby glowed in the Earthlight.  "Would you..."

"Oh."  Her eyes grew wide, her mouth dropping slightly before she managed to shut it again.  "Oh, John.  I didn't expect..."

Something strange happened to Bigman's heart; it leaped up very high, then crashed down again in a way that unsettled his intestines.  "You don't have to decide right now," he said, quickly.  "I mean, if you want to think it over, you can.  I..."

"I didn't think..." She sighed.  "I didn't - I mean, John, I want to have children."

"Yeah, you've said that a few times, and sure, I'm not _great_ with kids, but I could learn.  And I'm a good provider!  Old man Makian said he's planning to promote me..."

"Bigman..." Yet another heavy sigh.  "Do you really think you'd get a Reproduction Permit?"  She couldn't meet his eyes.

The Reproduction Permits - Bigman knew of them, of course, the effort to curb the explosive growth of humans on over-run Earth and its nervous colonies.  "Sure.  Why not?  I don't have any genetic diseases..." His voice died in his throat.  _Genetic diseases_.  Small.  Ginger.  Ugly.

"Let's... let's not talk about this now."

Earth took a very long time to set.


	8. Chapter 8

"You just let her go.  You let her go!"  Dr Conway, Chief Councilman of the all-powerful Council of Science, slammed his palms on his desk in frustration, the gesture emphatic even over the Shooting Starr's visiphone connection.

"Yes, Uncle Hector."  David nodded.

Conway shook his head, a pained laugh escaping his lips.  "You just let a defector go on her merry way.  With that ship of hers!"

"Yes.  That's exactly what I did."

"Would you like to tell me _why_?"

David leaned back slightly.  "Well, I felt her mission was a just one, and that we would have more to gain in the long term by giving her what she wanted and letting her return unimpeded."

"What was it that she wanted?"

"Bacteria."  David smiled.  "Simple Earth bacteria."

"Bacteria?"  Conway's eyes narrowed.  "Why?  What in Space..."

"The Sirians are highly inbred.  They consider themselves the height of human evolution..." David paused to let the echoes of Bigman's snort die away.  "But they do not value diversity, which is the _true_ height of human evolution.  And that lack of diversity extends to their intestinal flora.  She has seen an intestinal disease sporadically occur in the past year in otherwise healthy Sirians, and believes it may spread if she does not... introduce some diversity, more symbiotic bacteria to seed the population with.  So I allowed her to take samples from myself, Wess, and Bigman, to take back with her - since, as you know, there is no single ideal microbiome."

"Bacteria.  She came all this way for bacteria."  Conway shook his head again, his lack of belief etched all over his face.

"Yes.  And perhaps, this is a way for their unshakable faith in their lack of diversity to finally show some cracks.  These bacteria may well be the smallest, and yet most effective, ambassadors we could send from Earth."  David smiled again at Dr Conway.

Conway laughed ruefully.  "Really, my boy.  You're something else."

 

* * *

 

 

"Lucky - did you really mean that?"  It was dark, as it always was when they did _this_ , and David could not see the expression on Bigman's face as his tenor voice quietly asked the question.

David paused, catching his breath, startled and a bit upset by the unexpected conversation. "Mean what?"

"What you said. About small ambassadors being effective."

David had to laugh, a breathy sound.  "Bigman, really - are you serious?  You're quite a bit bigger than a bacterium."

"Yeah."  Bigman's voice was oddly quiet, oddly sedate.  "It's okay.  Forget I asked."

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings, recipient:
> 
> I found two aspects of your request very compelling - a young Bigman, and the power imbalance in the Lucky/Bigman relationship. Because we know very little of Bigman - we know he was born on Mars, we know he went to 'school' there, we know he has no relatives or friends (outside of Lucky) close enough to mention, we know that, at least as of Rings of Saturn, that he was living with Lucky on Earth and had to be prompted to put clothing on when visitors came by. So I tried to run with it. Let me know what you think.


End file.
